The Story of a Selfish Muse
by SeriousMischief
Summary: This is my first multi-chapter story. I hope it isn't to bad... Please comment and review to tell me how I'm doing.
1. Chapter 1

I don't know what is worse, the fact I am seemingly unconcerned that I am practically dangling off the side of a bridge, or the fact that no one else cares I am either. My empty, bored eyes stared the water below me. I completely tuned out the sound of cars flying behind me. It didn't really matter how close I was to each speeding vehicle. To be honest, I've come to hate cars. I had extended my arms as far as they would go; my hair hid my face, and eliminated my peripheral vision, causing my full attention to be directed to the gentle flowing waters before me. My pain was finally going to come to an end. My grip loosened around the rusty metal bar of the bridge, causing me to slide forward. This was all going to be over. I would finally find peace...

My alarm clock is what startled me from my sleep. Lazily, I slung my arm over and smacked the annoying the machine, silencing it. I rolled over and tried to fall back asleep, but my mind just wouldn't allow it and began to fill with all sorts of bothersome thoughts. It's why lots of people call me stupid, but I'm not really. I'm actually somewhat clever, but I'm always thinking of something stupid and irrelevant, or am lost in a daydream. I can't really help it though; it's kind of my nature.

Deciding it was my best interest; I got out of my bed and went through my morning routine to get ready. I dressed casually, but I always do, because being an artist who just sells my work on the streets, I don't really need to dress up, and even if I did, I would look pretty stupid.

I pulled my (hair color) hair onto a loose pony tail, grabbed the bag I keep my art that is ready to be sold in, and headed out the door, locking it behind me. I live in a pretty rundown apartment, so I don't think I really have to worry about anything getting stolen, but better safe than sorry. I jogged down the stairs to the ground floor, and headed out the door, skipping into the bright, busy sidewalks of my city.

As I walked to where I usually set up my little booth, I couldn't help but think how everyone around me all have different stories and are all here for different, or maybe no reason at all, and the fact that they all have different lives that I don't even affect in the slightest. It's kind of weird really. Actually that sounds like a weird intro that my friend Elisaveta would use in one of her romance stories. The girl thinks about how insignificant she is and then she meets the boy and everything changes. Pretty stupid right.

They day had passed as they normally go, with me sitting at my little booth selling only a couple pieces of my art. Nothing of real importance happened, and certainly nothing out of the ordinary. I sat and observed as I usually do. Most people find this boring, but I love to watch people. Wait, that sounded creepy. What I mean to say is that I enjoy observing people… Damn it! That was still creepy. Well whatever, I do enjoy watching people as they live out their lives. I like to sketch them and the scenes that unfold before me. I often do anyways; I just sit outside, and soak up the bright summer sun with a smile on my face as I draw.

Sometimes I wish that I could just live like this, but I know that I need something, because it seems as life continues to get more expensive here in the city. Actually a couple of days ago I did something I never thought I would. I applied for a job. It was still an artist job ( I could never bring myself to do a job where I can't create) but nonetheless, I always imagined as I child I would be able to live off of my art and I had worked really hard to ensure that I had the skill to do it. Quite honestly, the skill wasn't a problem actually, I am an amazing artist. It's just that not everyone likes what I do with my sketches and water colors, and I don't plan to change my style just to make others happy. But anyways I was talking about the job application.

A while ago, it was just a normal day, and I was just doing as I always do, listening, and observing, when I saws to teenage girls that looked very excited about something, so I decided to listen to them. They were talking about some extremely young ultra-wealthy business man, but that isn't what grabbed my attention. Apparently, they needed someone to come up with fresh unique designs for their products and do other stuff like that. Apparently this would be a very high paying job as well. So I went to the interview and was currently waiting to hear back, but it had been a month, and I hadn't heard a thing back, not even a polite rejection. It was driving me crazy.

I sighed, and went back to my sketch pad and doodled absentmindedly until someone spoke. "Hey!" I grinned and looked up to see my friend Elisaveta smiling down at me. "You're off early." I said to her, kind of surprised to see her here. She grinned. "Yeah, Roderich is leaving town for some classical music concert, so he let me get off of work early." (Elisaveta worked as a maid for the classical musician Roderich Edelstein, but was trying to become a full time writer.) She flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder. "So, I have decided to take you out to lunch," she said. I just grinned and started to clean up my stuff.

She chattered about all sorts of stuff as we walked through the busy sidewalks. It had been decided that we would go to some cute little café that Elisaveta had heard about, and I was all for it because I could check my email there. When we got there Elisaveta ran to the rest room to go wash up, do I picked us out a table on the patio in the shade, and then pulled out my laptop. I scanned through my inbox not expecting for the letter to be there, but to my surprise it was, so I immediately opened it… Well… I had finally gotten my polite rejection…


	2. Chapter 2

It was what I had expected, to be rejected, so why do I feel so disappointed? I shouldn't still be dwelling on this either. Sighing, I shut my laptop, and slid it back into my bag that I had propped up against the black iron chair I was seated in. I quietly tapped my fingers on the table and leaned back in my chair as I waited for Elisaveta to return.

It had been a week since I got the e-mail, and life was still the same. I was in my apartment because I had closed up my booth early today to eat pout with Elisaveta this evening. She was celebrating the completion of a novel or something like that. I swear writers are so weird. If I celebrated every time I finished a painting, I would have a fancy meal every day, sometimes even multiple times a day. Actually, that wouldn't be so bad I guess, now that I think about it a bit more.

I finally decided that I have wasted enough time longing around and got out of bed, stretching my legs dramatically. It only took me a few minutes to shower and dress, but fixing my hair to perfection is another story. I mean my hair has to be perfect to match my perfect face. Whoa, that sounded way more egotistical than I intended. I'm not that stupid! I swear!

I probably would have worn makeup if I could afford it, but that is a luxury that I simply cannot afford. So now I had finally gotten ready and pulled a light jacket over my shoulders and headed towards the door, locking it behind me, and the sliding my key, which I had put on a string, over my head and wearing it like a necklace.

It was only a short walk to the restaurant where I was meeting Elisaveta, so I was there a bit early. I thought it'd be awkward if I walked in alone, so I waited on one of the benches outside of the building. The summer evening was warm, but you could tell summer was beginning to take its leave as there was a slight chill in the air. I sighed quietly and hugged my arms to my chest. What was I missing? It was like there was a huge gaping hole in my chest. It weighed me down wherever I went. It doesn't make any sense either. I mean I'm following my dreams, and I'm surrounded by friends. I mean I'm not wealthy, but by no means am I poverty-stricken. Why am I so sad?

Elisaveta was the one to break me from my thoughts, and pull me back into the world. "Shall we go inside?" She asked happily, not quite picking up on the mood. I ended up just smiling with her though, and trying to forget my earlier thoughts. We went in and were seated, and we talked and laughed throughout dinner. She told me about her new book and about all the hot gossip, and told plenty of jokes. It made me happy to be there, and I know that I thoroughly enjoyed being there and talking, but the hole still made itself present, even if it was only in the background now. We had payed the bill and were leaving when I had to run to the restroom. Elisaveta nodded, grabbed my purse, and said she would be waiting outside for me.

I entered the restroom and relieved myself. I was washing my hands when I glanced up into the mirror. Even if someone didn't know me, they would know I was an artist. Whether it was from my movements, or my subtle fashion statements, or even the artist aura I gave off. They would pick it up because I absolutely screamed artist, and I don't know whether it is a good thing or a bad thing. I tried to give myself a big, bright happy smile, but it ended up being more of a small, pitiful sad type smile. I turned and left, shaking my hands dry.

I smiled at the hostess as I left the building to go meet up with Elisaveta outside, but when I opened the doors I was no longer smiling. I was just kind of confused. Elisaveta was yelling into a phone… my phone…


End file.
